


Whiskey

by akisawana



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alcohol, Body Shots, Established Relationship, M/M, Timeline What Timeline, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akisawana/pseuds/akisawana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Qrow smells like Mercury's father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Southie and Bunce for betaing!
> 
> Assume established relationship with all proper discussions happening beforehand. Don't attempt this in real life. Always use appropriate lubrication and whatever is necessary to protect your health.

_Mercury’s young enough to be his sister’s kid, almost young enough to be one of his students. He looks the part at least, all long eyelashes and carefully disheveled hair. Qrow’s never asked how old Mercury is, just if he’s old enough._

  
_He’s older than he pretends, Qrow thinks. Mercury has old scars, and the gears under Qrow’s thumb are worn to perfect smoothness. He knows more than he wants to about mechanical limbs from Ironwood, and he knows that Mercury has to have had these adult legs for years. Even if it’s his first pair, even if they’ve worn hard, Qrow knows Mercury is lying about his age._

  
_But it doesn’t bother him. Qrow’s never asked for a number._  
~  
“Can I have some?” Mercury asks, kneeling against Qrow’s chair. He looks up at the older man from under grey bangs, watching greedily as Qrow sips from his flask.

  
Qrow pushes the hair out of his eyes. “Can’t you get your own?” he reminds the boy -and for all that he’s older than he claims, he is still very much a boy. Qrow suspects he’ll be a boy when he’s fifty, if he lives that long.

“Please,” Mercury asks, just a little bit of whine in his voice.

“Sure,” Qrow says, “come sit on my lap.”

Mercury scrambles onto Qrow’s knees and leans against his shoulder. Qrow wraps an arm around him to keep him from falling off, to hold him close. Mercury takes a swig from the flask, and then another. “Good boy,” Qrow tells him when he doesn’t choke on Qrow’s whiskey. Mercury screws the lid back on, and Qrow doesn’t miss the fine tremor in his fingers. “So good for me,” he says, just to see the reaction.

Mercury tucks his face into the crook of Qrow’s neck and breathes deeply. Qrow runs his fingers through hair soft as ash. Sometimes when he does this, Qrow thinks Mercury is going to cry. This time he lifts his head and says “Come to bed with me?”

Mercury makes no move to get up though, so Qrow lifts him and stands, waits until Mercury’s legs are around his waist to walk to the bed. He doesn’t, technically, have to slide his hands under Mercury’s ass on the way, but he does.

Qrow lays him on his back on the bed, his necklace swinging out to pool on Mercury’s throat. “Let me help you,” Mercury whispers, unhooking it and setting it aside before starting on the buttons of Qrow’s shirt.

Qrow allows him, and shucks off his own pants before going to work on Mercury’s. He’s careful when he eases them off, not letting anything get caught in the delicate mechanism of Mercury’s legs. He drops his own shirt on top of the pile without nearly as much care. Mercury has his own shirt off, and now that they’re both naked, Qrow kisses him.

Mercury tastes like whiskey and sin and bright quick metal. He likes to grab Qrow’s shoulders and the older man isn’t complaining, not with one knee on the bed, one hand balancing him over Mercury, one hand free to trace the skin between scars. He swears it’s the most sensitive there, overcompensating for where the sensation is dulled.

Qrow pulls back and Mercury tries to follow him, before he lets his head fall back on the pillow. Qrow’s too old to be ready to go after ten minutes of necking and Mercury is nowhere near either. Still, Mercury doesn’t protest when Qrow tells him to turn over. He doesn’t say a word, just lets his legs spread and tips his hips up while Qrow digs around on the floor. The pillow keeps his head high enough that his hair is silver in the starlight.

Qrow settles between Mercury’s legs, but it’s not the lube he uncaps. It’s his flask, and he pours a bead between Mercury’s shoulders, makes sure it’s big enough to run down his spine and pool in the dip of his back.

Mercury shivers, tenses up below Qrow, but he doesn’t say anything. Qrow traces his shoulder blade while he recaps the flask one-handed. Then he lowers himself carefully, presses an open-mouth kiss to the back of Mercury’s neck. The smaller man makes a noise into the pillow, a whispered string of vowels that cuts off when Qrow moves one vertebrae lower.

Qrow’s hands, callused from sword and scythe and gun, are well-acquainted with Mercury’s back. He fits them around Mercury’s ribs while he licks up the liquor, drags his fingertips down to Mercury’s hips while he makes sure to find every last drop. “Are you doing all right?” Qrow asks, when the last traces of whiskey are gone and Mercury is shaking silently. “Talk to me, good boy.”

Mercury stills, and says in a voice far too steady, “I’m fine.”

Qrow rubs small circles on Mercury’s hips, takes one hand off him to pick up the flask again. He pours a liberal amount where the lube should go -where the hell did the bottle go, anyways- and then presses a kiss to the very bottom of Mercury’s spine before going farther down. Mercury doesn’t like his thighs touched, so Qrow’s hands stay firmly on his ass as he licks in circles before working his way in. All he can see is the flex of muscles under skin, all he can taste is the whiskey and all he can feel is the heat of his own body. All he hears is Mercury’s soft whimpers into the pillow; his whole world is this strange boy who needs nothing from him and asks nothing from him and expects nothing from him but a good hard fuck.

Qrow pulls back and Mercury pushes up on his hands, lets Qrow position his hips and relaxes while Qrow pushes in with only spit and a prayer. It’s enough, it’s more than enough, Mercury takes him in easily. “On your lap,” Mercury says, once Qrow is pressed tight against his back “I want to be on your lap.”  
Qrow’s arms are strong enough to move them both without pulling out, sitting on the bed with Mercury kneeling over him. Mercury covers Qrow’s hands with his own, high on Mercury’s waist, and the message is clear. No lower.

Not while Mercury moves to balance his hands on Qrow’s knees and starts to bounce. He has strong thighs, strong enough to lift himself and drop down with almost-stunning force. Qrow has to hold very still, but he can, and all he hears is Mercury’s soft grunts and all he feels is the heat and the tight, and he lets go of Mercury to put his hands behind him, brace himself when the sparks unspool from his belly and up his spine and across the other man’s back.

“So good to me,” he gasps when he can breathe again. Mercury’s not moving anymore; Qrow lifts him off so he can tuck himself against Qrow’s shoulder. “You’re so good to me, let’s get you a reward.” He closes his hand around Mercury’s cock, slick with sweat and precum and his own seed. Mercury likes a soft touch, and he is heavy in Qrow’s hand, and Qrow squeezes him as gentle as a trigger.

“Please,” Mercury begs, so different than before. “Let me come. Please.”

“Of course. Come for me,” Qrow says, hand moving quick and light until Mercury comes with shuddering breath.

Mercury tucks his face into the crook of Qrow’s neck and breathes deeply. Qrow kisses hair soft as ash. Sometimes when he does this, Qrow thinks Mercury is going to cry. But he never does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
